I’m not scared of the dark
or spiders, bats, or monsters as much as
I am afraid
of not being accepted for who I am,
Why do you think I play
every character but me?

Let me tell you the story of my life
I like this boy,
common knowledge
but he doesn’t glance in my direction
which pushes my self esteem
further below zero.

I like a girl,
which in itself is scary enough,
Somehow my cousin can tell that I do
and she accepts me,
My best friend knows this
and she loves me more for it,
But I’m too much
of a coward to ever show the world,
because I’m voiceless
and could never protect myself.

I’m not beautiful,
I can try to tell myself I am,
but no amount of convincing is enough
to change facts,
Because reality can’t be altered
and is as set in stone
as my undesirable body and my displeasing face.

My parents don’t understand me,
they don’t care,
I sound so teenagery,
But they have no time for me,
and I doubt notice my very
existence.

The conclusion to my story is this statement in all its simplicity:
I’m afraid to face the world
because of how afraid I am to face myself.